Asleep

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T. B. Ventres, 1871 - 149 páginas
 

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Página 25 - Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come ; And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, The music of the gospel leads us home.
Página 43 - ALL are not taken ; there are left behind Living Beloveds, tender looks to bring. And make the daylight still a happy thing, And tender voices, to make soft the wind. But if it were not so — if I could find No love in all the world for comforting, Nor any path but hollowly did ring, Where
Página 72 - The Spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life.
Página 72 - I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.
Página 43 - Beloveds, tender looks to bring, And make the daylight still a happy thing, And tender voices, to make soft the wind. But if it were not so — if I could find No love in all the world for comforting, Nor any path but hollowly did ring, Where 'dust to dust' the love from life disjoined, And, if, before those sepulchres unmoving, I stood alone, (as some forsaken lamb Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth) Crying ' Where are ye, O my loved and loving?
Página 97 - Saviour, low and sweet From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low, Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so Who art not missed by any that entreat. Speak to me as to Mary at thy feet ! And if no precious gums my hands bestow, Let my tears drop like amber while I go In reach of thy divinest voice complete In humanest affection — thus, in sooth, To lose the sense of losing. As a child, Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore, Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth Till, sinking on her breast,...
Página 108 - MY God, my Father, while I stray Far from my home in life's rough way, O teach me from my heart to say, "Thy will be done!
Página 108 - If thou shouldst call me to resign ' What most I prize — it ne'er was mine ; I only yield thee what is thine — " Thy will be done." 5 Let but my fainting heart be blest With thy sweet Spirit for its guest, My God, to thee I leave the rest ; "Thy will be done.
Página 34 - TO A DYING INFANT. SLEEP, little baby ! Sleep ! Not in thy cradle bed, Not on thy mother's breast Henceforth shall be thy rest, But with the quiet dead. Yes — with the quiet dead, Baby, thy rest shall be ! Oh ! many a weary wight, Weary of life and light, Would fain lie down with thee. Flee little tender nursling ! Flee to thy grassy nest ; There the first flowers shall blow, The first pure flake of snow Shall fall upon thy breast.
Página 72 - Thy dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall they arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust; for thy dew is as the dew of herbs, and the earth shall cast out the dead.

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